


Where You Belong

by Cherryleaf



Series: The Apprentice's Day-to-Day Adventures [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel), the arcana
Genre: One Shot, Other, apprentice gender not specified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherryleaf/pseuds/Cherryleaf
Summary: A day in the life of Asra and the apprentice.After a long and busy day at work for the apprentice, Asra comes home and the two enjoy an intimate evening that needs few words.





	Where You Belong

It’s been a long day. It must be about closing time by now; you can feel it in your gut. You glance at the man opposite the counter, who’s still grinning like a child on Christmas morning. His eyes crinkle and gleam as his large, weathered hands tenderly embrace his newest possession - a beautiful tarot deck that Asra had recently added to your shop’s inventory. Its case’s golden trimmings seem to glow under the dim light, sparkling with secrets ready to be uncovered. 

“Are you sure it’s alright?” The man asks, the whiskers above his lip quivering a little from his excitement. 

You smile, tucking your exhaustion into the back of your mind. “Of course, for our favourite customer.”

Within the past few months that you’ve been here, this man had started dropping by almost daily, wandering around the shop with unbridled curiosity and awe. It seemed he would find a new must-have every time he came over, never batting an eyelash at the prices you set him. You had the creeping suspicion it wasn’t just the wares he would come looking for, but you’ve decided to let it be; he’s been harmless so far, and a highly valued customer at any rate... Which probably means you should have paid attention when he gave you his name, but you guess with some chagrin that it’s too late now. 

“And anyway, your first deck has to be a gift, right?” You know the lore is utter rubbish - the chances of finding a deck that calls for you is much lower if you’ve never once seen it before owning it - but the man seems far too attached to the rules of folk tales to accept such an argument. Anyway, you had watched his gaze continuously returning to this deck ever since he’d first encountered it on the shelf, so this gift won’t be in vain. 

The man grins wider, pulling the deck to his chest. “Thank you.” His voice is nearly a whisper, and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Alright, alright. Take care now.” You wave him off from your spot behind the counter, not looking up as you hear him shuffle out the door. Once you hear it latch closed behind him you sigh, letting your forehead sweep down to the cool countertop. You should probably lock up, before someone else comes prancing in, but for a moment longer, you just stay there. After the busiest day in the last three months and no naps, you’re absolutely knackered. How does the baker manage this, always on his feet and baking that scrumptious pumpkin bread for so many customers all day? 

Finally, with one more drawn-out sigh, you prepare to heave yourself up off the counter. As if on cue, the doorbell jingles, announcing the door opening once more. “Sorry, we’re closed,” you call, your eyes closing in exhausted irritation. It’s all you can do not to growl at the intruder - you’ve been scolded before for behaving rudely to customers. However, the intruder doesn’t turn. Instead, you hear their sure, quick steps softly thudding towards you. Ah, you know the sound of those footfalls. A tired smile fights its way onto your face, and you lift your head, biting your lip to keep it contained. 

“Busy day, huh?” Asra hums, his soft gaze scanning over you as he reaches over the countertop to brush his lips against your forehead in greeting. You lean back, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Is that your idea of a welcome-home kiss?” He laughs, shrugging as he moves back to appraise you once more. You know what he finds; your body feels light from his gentle touch. Plus, his presence always seems to chase away some of that oppressive exhaustion that always accompanies a successful workday.

You hold your breath for a moment, steeling yourself before pushing off the counter. “How about you lock the door while I make us some tea,” you suggest, already turning towards the steps leading up to your joint room. 

“With pleasure,” he calls, the smirk evident in his voice, and you hear the bolts lock shut moments later. 

By the time he’s finished securing the protective sigils and comes skipping up the steps, you’ve already fed the fire salamander, and the kettle is on the stove. He leans onto your back and peers around at the water, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel his cheek pressed against yours, and can’t stop yourself from rubbing it against him, earning yourself another laugh. “Exciting day?” you ask. Asra gives a noncommittal hum as response, turning his head to bury into the crook of your neck. “You’re back so early,” you mumble half to yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as his curls brush against your face and basking in his scent: the sweet scent of adventure, with spices you’ve never tasted taunting my taste buds and the earthy reminiscence of the fields and forests he’d crossed. His scent tells the story Asra doesn’t, and you raise your hand to his head, softly pressing him to you as you kiss the top of his head, allowing your imagination to wander. 

Asra pulls back, narrowing his eyes as he smirks at you. “Oh, should I have stayed away longer? Tell me, what mischief have you been up to while I was out?” He pinches your hips lightly, electricity shooting up your spine and making you curl over with a surprised yelp.

You blush, chuckling with embarrassment, and bat his hand away. “I just meant I’d have cleaned up a little, is all.” He glances around the room, amusement colouring his expression as he notices the haphazard mosaic of clothes and trinkets strewn across the bed and floor. Grumbling, you grab his shoulders, ignoring their shake of silent amusement as you direct him back toward the stairs. “We’ll drink downstairs for now.” There should still be some pumpkin bread left in the pantry – you can dine on that tonight and go shopping tomorrow morning. Maybe Asra will join you, if he’s not leaving again right away – he normally leaves a few days at a time, but this time he had only been gone a day. His thirst for adventure couldn’t have been satisfied yet. 

***

You settle into the seats in the backroom, the dim light casting indigo shadows across your faces. The heavy fragrance from the last of the lavender incense curls around your mind, making your eyelids heavy with tranquillity. In front you: an olive-green, rippled ceramic cup Asra had brought one of his travels and a white-tinted glass plate decorated with little rosy petals. In front of Asra: a dainty little teacup with delicate blue flowers painted onto the snowy white china and a crudely cut wooden plate you had tried to carve about a month ago. Apparently you used to be very good at wood-carving, though you were quite hopeless when you tried to make this one – the only reason it is usable today is that Asra was able to swipe it from your hands before you split the wood in two. In between the two of you is the large, smooth ivory bowl that holds the few pumpkin bread-rolls that you still have left. You had bought a bulk of them just yesterday morning, and you take a moment to wonder at the speed that you managed to deplete your stock. 

Asra takes a roll from the bowl and lifts it to his lips, watching you quietly as he does so. His eyes are brimming with questions, stories, whispers and exaltations, but his expression otherwise is one of practiced calm. You catch his eye and pause mid-bite, raising your eyebrows in invitation to his mouth and mind. He smiles, putting down his bread-roll, and you follow suit. “Do you know what today is,” he asks, his eyes gently searching yours. You frown. A panicked thought rushes through your mind – it’s not his birthday, is it? But you know that’s in spring and it’s summer now, so the panic recedes to confused curiosity. If you’re being honest, you haven’t been paying much attention to the date – neither you nor Asra tend to use much more than the cycle of the sun and moon and turn of the seasons to differentiate time. However, this seems to not to be the case today. You frown, and Asra shifts closer to you. There’s sorrow in his eyes, mixing with soft amazement as he tenderly caresses your cheek. “Today is the day you came back to me,” he whispers. His voice is barely audible, as though he were afraid of what these words might reveal. As though he were afraid that he might lose me again if he confirmed it. 

You lean into his touch, and he stills, his pale eyes clouding over. You smile encouragingly and lean forward to rest your forehead against his. “I’m here,” you promise, your voice steady. Although just a whisper, the sound seems to fill the room, reverberating within the walls around you. You slowly lift your hand toward him, allowing your fingers to momentarily brush along the soft silk of his shawl before passing under his shirt so that you can press your palm flush against his chest. His breath catches for a moment, and you smile to yourself. Then you take a deep breath and focus, allowing all attention to flow inwards. You focus first on your breath, the air filling your lungs and escaping them in a continuous cycle; then your heart, it’s steady beating pumping life through your body; then beyond that, to the energy seated within the core of your being. The energy that makes you uniquely yourself. The energy that stretches across every cell of your body and infuses every spell you make. You focus on this energy, allowing it to build inside your chest before coursing out through your arm, your hand, and into Asra’s chest. It is your proof of existence, the one part of you that will always exist, one way or another. You are here, and you are here to stay. Asra’s breath trembles, his hand shooting up to clutch the back of your neck as he surges forward to catch your lips with his. You can feel your heartbeat stutter before hammering against your chest, but it isn’t just your own anymore. You can feel two hearts beating, first chaotically out of rhythm but slowly falling into sync, blending into one by a force that pulls the two of you together. After all, this is where you belong.


End file.
